Lost Souls
by GreatIceDragon
Summary: A year after the infamous Chandelier Incident, Erik is an emotional mess living under the Opera House, and it's up to a young stagehand named Carmen to help him and his angel realize they were meant to be. NOT Erik/O.C. Rated T for curses, romantic angst, and some murder.
1. Chapter 1

**This is a prologue, and I'm going to post the next chapter almost immediately so that any readers don't feel cheated. This is not LND based.**

It had been about a year since the infamous dropping of the Chandelier in the Opera Populaire. Christine and Raoul were living comfortably together in their childhood home by the sea, with Christine leading a successful career in opera. Monsignors André and Firmin were swimming in money brought in by the once again popular Opera-house, and Meg was in a relationship with a charismatic young man from America. Everyone seemed to have forgotten about the Opera Ghost. The figure who had once inspired fear in the hearts of everyone was now just a myth, forgotten by all but few...

**Short chapters suck, right? But I like this little blurb, and I didn't want to continue writing the chapter in such a formal tone. Don't Hate; Appreciate!**


	2. Chapter 2

**This, no doubt, is a strange idea of mine, born of a love for the movie and a love of many different types of music. Nevertheless, this is what I came up with. A warning: this story is a very anachronistic and I know that there are many of you who would love to point out every single inconsistency. I ask that you do not do that, because I am fully aware of it. **

**Disclaimer: I own NOTHING! Literally, you can't legally own anything until you're 18. **

**P.S- I did some research on this**

** "**_Why can't this day just END?" _I wondered. The rehearsals that day had been torturous. The ballet rats were better at standing and looking pretty, the chorus girls were shamelessly flirting with the Patron, and the main stars were all...well, they were just irritating. All this incompetence was getting on my nerves. I leaned over and whispered to James "Doesn't this opera look promising right now?" I gave my signature derisive snort then continued. "I swear, if any of the audience saw our rehearsals, they'd never come again."

James laughed and added "Sometimes I wonder why they even come to the performances. The stories are such garbage!" A glassy look passed over my face and I started to rant. "Oh, I know why they come! It's because of their 'precious' Christine Daae! My God! If she had never been kidnapped by the Phantom, nobody would remember her name, much less fawn over her like she was some martyr! She's basically idolized for being passive and submissive!"

James nodded disinterestedly, having heard this particular rant many times before. Noticing his reaction, smiled guiltily and spread out my hands. "Sorry. You know that she just irks me." On stage, Christine was just kind of standing around while people hustled and bustled around her. God, just looking at her made me feel enraged. It was an odd mix of jealousy and disdain. "Better get back to your post,Carmen," commented James, "the train-wreck is about to begin."

I ran back up to the catwalks, where I was in charge of lowering and pulling up the sets. It was a riveting job all right. Once everybody got all ready; Christine started to sing a passive little ditty about how she would love this guy, even though he kept her waiting for a while.

"_Hearts beat fast, colors and promises. How to be brave, how can I love when I'm afraid to fall? But, watching you stand alone, all of my doubt suddenly goes way some how. One step closer..."_

Christine's character took deliberate steps toward her love interest, highlighting the romantic tension in the scene. "_I have died everyday, waiting for you. Darling, don't be afraid, I have loved you for a thousand years, I'll love you for a thousand more... Time stands still, beauty in all she it, I will be brave, I will not let it get away, what's standing in front of me. All of my breath, every hour had come to this. One step closer..."_

_**XxXxXxXxXxX**_

Deep below the Opera, Erik listened in equal parts rapture and anger. His angel's voice never ceased to amaze him, but he was still heartbroken that she hadn't chosen him. He knew that the creatures above had forgotten him, and at first he thought that was a good thing. But now, he decided to stir things up a bit, even though Madame Giry would most likely scold him for it.

**_XxXxXxXxXxX_**

"_...I have died every day, waiting for you, darling don't be afraid I have loved you for a thousand years, I'll love you for a thousand more. All along, I believed, I would find you. Time has brought, heart to me, I have loved you for a thousand years, I'll love you for a thousand more..."_

I stood above, resisting the urge to drop water on the ballet rats. I had got in trouble last time. Then I heard James calling me from down stairs.

"Carmen, Carmen come down.."

"I'm coming!" I hissed.

When I got down to the stage level, James was completely absorbed in the drama onstage. Yeah, he was that kind of guy. "What did you need me for?" I asked breathlessly. James looked confused and whispered "I didn't say anything..." Before he finished, my eyes widened and I had time to shout "Oh SHIT!" when a large set dropped on the male lead. I started to race up the stairs, but James was ahead of me, shouting down how he had been distracted a pressed the wrong lever. Most of the cast (and crew) nodded and chortled to themselves about the stupidity of the stagehands, but Christine looked up to the catwalks in fear. Surprisingly, she seemed to know what had happened. The Phantom of the Opera had paid us a visit. Sure, he was much quieter these days, but he was most definitely there. You could tell by the presence you felt walking alone, the way all the lights in the opera house went out at once, and, sometimes, by the ghostly music that sometimes wafted up from the catacombs. I could tell this most recent incedent was a message to the public, warning us not to forget him.


	3. Chapter 3

**This is going to be a Jukebox musical type thing, where I use either modern or post-modern songs and insert them where I think that they're appropriate. **

**Christina Perri owns the song in the last chapter, and Either Weber or Leroux owns Phantom of the Opera (I'm guessing Weber because Leroux is dead)**

Antoinette Giry marched angrily down the way to Erik's hideout. When she arrived, huffing angrily, Erik was lying on the floor, staring at the ceiling. "Erik, get up. Stop acting so pitiful."

"No."

"Erik, get up now."

"NO!"

"Erik..."

"God damn it woman, can't you see I'm skulking?" Antoinette sighed and walked out of Erik's plane of vision, presumably to leave. Then five gallons of ice-cold sewer water cam rushing down all over his body. He sat up, sputtering "What on Earth was that for?" Giry just smiled and went to inspect his lair. "Have you been eating, Erik?"

"No."

Giry sighed and pleaded "Please do, Erik. Starvation is a very long way to commit suicide. And you know you don't want to die."

"Why not? I think I've made it clear that dying is one of my life goals." Giry shook her head in desperation. "If you had wanted to die, you could and would have done so long ago." Though neither of them said anything, they were both thinking about the reason Erik was still alive.

His Angel.

**XxXxXxXxX**

I felt someone shaking my shoulder. I turned over and mumbled "Go 'way. 'm tired." The shaking continued. I opened my eyes blearily and saw James standing over me. "James, what're you doing at my house?"

"Nothing." he replied, "Just wondering when you moved into the Opera house." I bolted up and saw that I had, indeed fallen asleep on one of the catwalks. Not again! I smiled at myself, but only because I don't get flustered easily. I yawned, then tired to stand up, tried being the key word because I immediately fell down. I'm always very dizzy when I first wake up, so I should have seen that coming. I mumbled my thanks to James, then stumbled my way back to my apartment, where everyone was waiting.

**XxXxXxXxX**

"Christine Daae. My name is Christine Daae. I love Raoul, not...him. I like my life here. My life is safe, my life is wealthy. My life is not music. Music is my hobby. My life is not...him." These thoughts were the only things that kept Christine going, from totally breaking down. These words were her mantra, her center. If she happened to be thinking about...him one day, she would repeat these words until she forgot what she had been thinking about. Raoul had not blocked music from her life, she did. She was afraid that if she ever listened to one song, sang one note, he would come, and then she would never be free. One evening, Raoul came home looking concerned. "Christine, darling, is everything all right? You seem so distant lately, so... out of focus." Christine attempted a smile and said "No, no I'm fine, really. Raoul did not look convinced.

"Christine," he said hesitantly, "I've heard you at night, screaming. Thrashing around in bed, yelling for someone to help you. What is this all about? Is it about the events at the Opera house? Because you know I'll always protect you..."

As Raoul was talking, Christine's eyes got wider and wider, she started breathing faster and faster, and when Raoul trailed off uncertainly, she suddenly stood up. "NO!" she yelled "Never talk about those things, NEVER! You," she accused "you forced me to take the job at the Opera, you said I'd be happy there."

Here Raoul interjected "But Christine, you said that you'd be happy as well. I wasn't about to make you give up music!"

Christine gave a sarcastic and slightly creepy laugh. "Don't you see? Giving up music is the only way! The only way to make sure he never comes back..."

"But he will_ never _come back, Christine! Never!"

"That's what you think, but he's here always here, always singing songs in my head, always waiting... and that face..."

Christine fell into a heap on the floor, sobbing. Raoul briefly wondered if the Phantom had recently made a visible appearance in her life, but he decided not. He had heard about the scenery incident, but that was just her being paranoid. No, clearly she needed a day of rest. The next day, the Primma Donna did not show up for rehearsals.

**DUN DUN DUUUUUN! So, what do you think? I love reviews, and I appreciate critical (but nice) advice. Also, I know that I'm probably not supposed to talk about my political opinions on this site, so I'll try and keep it simple. If Romney becomes President, and he cancels Sesame Street, if he gets rid of Elmo, I will die. Don't be surprised if you get a PM asking which way to the nearest bridge. (Kidding about the dying part, not kidding about the Elmo part.)**


	4. Chapter 4

**Alright! Another Chapter! Sorry for the long wait! Just so you know, I went back and took out the part where Christine was committed, because I realized I didn't really know where I was taking it. Anyway, Enjoy the Chapter~**

I lifted my head to look at the scene below. Without Christine to bring a _semblence _of talent, rehearsal was a mess. Seriously, the "world renowned Opera Populaire" looked like a bunch of kindergarteners putting on a christmas pageant. "Hey, James," I called, "Could you cover for me for the rest of the day? I need to go job hunting." He nodded, and I took off.

Behind me someone called "Carmen, _Carmen!" _I whirled around and found Madame Giry hurrying toward me. I mentally prepared myself for chastisement. I'd always been slightly awed by Madame Giry, she was always so strick and so, there. She finally caught up to me. After taking a few moments to compose herself, she began speaking.

"I could not help but overhear that you are looking for a job. Are planning to quit the one you have?"

"No, ma'am," I answered respectfully, "I just need to bring a little more money to my family." She nodded. "Then I would like to offer you one. Ever since Meg left me, I have had to clean the house and do other odd jobs by myself. I'm getting too old for that. I would need you to clean my house. It's a rather small house, after all, it's just me, and it will always be tidy. You would come every other Thursday and earn five francs per half hour should you accept."

"Thank you very much Madame Giry!" I exclaimed. I really hate job hunting, so this was a bit of good karma come my way. "I'll start tommorow?" She nodded, then walked away.

_**XxXxXxXxX**_

The next day after rehearsals, I practically skipped to Madame Giry's house. The cold winter wind bit at my exposed face, and the overcast sky promised weather in the night. I ran up her front steps and knocked on the door. No answer. I knocked again, and when nobody responded, I used the key she gave me. Madame Giry had explained that she would not always be home when I arrived, but that I was to start cleaning anyway If she had not arrived by the time I was done; I was to tell her how mcuh she owed me the next day.

As I entered, I noticed that the lights were on. Strange. I began wiping off the tables when I heard a footstep behind me. I froze for a second, then kept wiping. More footsteps. I readied the dagger I always keep on me. Just my luck that I would walk in on a robbery! The footsteps came closer. When they came as close as I could allow, I whirled around, pointing my dagger at...nothing. There was no one there. I looked around suspicously when I felt something cold on my throat.

"What are you doing here? You are a strange theif to break in and begin cleaning." a voice behind me said. If I hadn't had a knife at my throat, I would have smacked my forehead with my hand.

"Really?" I hissed "I open the door with a key, start cleaning, and your first assumption is _theif?_"

"Antionette didn't tell me she hired a maid."

"Hmm," I said sarcastically, " I wonder if that's because she hired me only yesterday. And who are you to expect Madame Giry to tell you everything? I know she's not married." The knife slowly came away from my throat, and I turned around. A man in half of a white mask towered over me, glaring. Of course, Madame Giry was friends the Phantom. What are the odds?

_**XxXxXxXxX**_

__Erik didn't understand this girl. She turned around, saw he was the Phantom, and... sighed in exasperation? He remebered seeing her once or twice around the Opera house, working on sets, so she should know his legend, she should be terrified of him! Instead she gave him a once over, and went back to work. Then she turned, hesitated like she was about to ask a question, shook her head, and leaned down again.

"What?" asked Erik, rather indignantly

"What do you mean 'what'?"

"You were about to ask a question."

"No I wasn't"

"Yes, you were."

"You can't prove that!"

"I just want to know what you were going to ask me!" The girl sighed in defeat. "Fine. I was going to ask why youy dropped that bit of scenery the other day."

Erik blinked. "Why, to get Christine's attention, of course."

The girl snorted. "What are you, five? Pulling your crush's hair in order to show that you like her? Please." Erik was stunned. No one had ever had the guts to talk back to him like that. That girl...what was her name again? "What is your name?" he asked casually

"Carmen. And yours?"

"What?"

"Your name," she said, exsasperated, "you must have one besides 'Phantom', right?"

"Oh yes, my name is Erik."

Her time passed withour any further discussion. Erik mostly stayed out of sight, only appearing in her peripherals once in a while. When she was done, she turned to Erik and said "Well, it was nice meeting you, Erik. I hope to see you more at the Opera house." Then she left before Erik could tell her that their chances of meeting again were slim

**So how do you like that? Again, I REALLY like reviews... They motivate me to write, they really do. I will update again soon, maybe even !**


	5. Chapter 5

**_Happy Holidays, you guys! Here's a present (it feels like a chapter!) You guys, I really need some feed back on my writing style. Is it too verbose? Too choppy? Please let me know_**

That was probably the bravest and stupidest thing I've ever done in my life. I had just faced down and sassed the infamous Opera Ghost. In all honesty, I was feeling pretty good about myself as I walked home. It had gotten colder and darker, and snow began to fall in earnest. I could barely see the ground in front of me the snow was so thick. I stumbled and fell, got back up, then fell again. The streets had iced over, which made any form transportation practically impossible. I started crawling in the general direction of my house, feeling my way through the streets like a blind man.

I was the only one on the street. Everyone else had the sense to be inside their nice, warm houses. I got fed up with crawling; it took too long. I slowly stood up and took a step. When that succeeded, I took another, and I was soon making good progress. The problem? I had no idea where I was. I began to call out.

"Hello? Can anybody hear me? Where the hell am I?" I shouted until my voice was hoarse, but either no one heard me or no one cared, because I received no answer. I slipped again and fell into a snowdrift. Great. Now I was not only cold and tired, I was wet too. I stumbled to my feet and began feeling desperate. I continued walking for about five minutes when I feel once more. I screamed in frustration. I started punching the ground, in a sort of temper tantrum. Then I collapsed into the snow. My eyes fluttered, and I drifted into a dreamlike state. I felt increasingly colder and colder, and soon it took herculean effort to keep my eyes open. Then they closed.

**_XxXxXxXxX_**

****Erik saw the weather get worse, but went outside anyway. He had his cloak on, and besides, he knew the way to the Opera from memory. Erik took slow, deliberate, steps so as not to slip on the ice. Suddenly he heard a distant shout, the wind steadily raising wind drowning out some of the message. "Hello? Can...Hear...me? Where...am I?" Erik recognized the voice. He thought briefly of helping her, and then changed his mind. It wasn't any of his business...right? Later, he heard shouts and curses coming from the same direction. Erik kept walking. Then he passed her limp body in the street, and gave up. He slung Carmen over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and finished his journey to the Opera Populaire.

**_XxXxXxXxX_**

****Something smelled really good. It was this, rather than the warmth around me, that enticed me to open my eyes. A face with half of a porcelain mask greeted me. I blinked lazily a couple of times; then smiled winningly. "Hey." I said cheerily. He simply frowned back at me. I took no notice of his somber mood. 'What's cooking?" I asked.

"Soup." he muttered, and walked to an adjoining room, presumably to check on it. I took this time to take in my surroundings. There were candles everywhere, even in the enormous black lake. His favorite fabric seemed to be velvet, as I saw a lot of that as well. I noticed a few broken mirrors, but didn't look at them for too long. They were sad and pitiful reminders of who my host was. "You," I said to Erik, "have a very good taste in decorating."

He nodded, and seemed rather pleased with himself. "Would you like a tour?" He asked hesitantly, as if afraid I would refuse. "Yes, very much so." I replied politely. I got up from the bed I had been lying on and walked over to him.

As Erik showed me his various inventions and innovations, he became more and more excited. Not obviously so; his gesture may be a bit more animated, the note of pride in his voice more pronounced, but I noticed them non the less. I was left with a curious paradox. This man who showed me his candle lit world so excitedly, so innocently, could not be the same one who killed Buqet, or kidnapped Christine. As his narrative came to a close, I said "Thank you for getting me out of the snow, Erik."

Erik looked at me for a second, then gave a small, hesitant smile. I smiled back and said "Now, how about some soup?"

**_I hope that got everybody in the holiday spirit! Please review if it did. I know the ending's kind of corny, but then again, so is Christmas. Also, just to repeat THEY ARE NOT FALLING IN LOVE! Never in a million years will I write an Erik x OC fanfic! Merry Christmas!_**


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